Summer (Four Seasons #2)

By: Frankie Rose

ONE

AVERY

“One more time, beautiful. I need to make you come one more time before I go.” Luke pulls me close, his hands sliding down to cup my ass. He leans in and drags his nose from the skin on my shoulder up to my neck, his hot breath leaving a trail of desire on my skin. I groan softly, reaching up and sliding my fingers through his hair before pulling back on the black locks. His brown eyes are warm. His smile is killer. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he wets them, as if savoring how good I taste. My stomach twists as he growls softly.

“I don’t want to go,” I whisper, leaning in, pressing my lips to his. The firm brush of his tongue beckons me to open up to him, to hand myself over to him unconditionally. His mouth tastes sweet from the cinnamon bagels we ate for breakfast. I suck softly on his tongue, and he groans, his fingers tightening on me. He pulls away, reaching behind me to clear the counter in the bathroom, and toothbrushes, hair gel, ear buds and cans of shaving foam all crash to the floor. I focus on him, reaching to tug his shirt off as he glances up toward the clock.

“Time’s your flight again?” he pants.

“Cab’s coming in forty minutes.” I start to take off my shirt, but he stops me, shaking his head.

“I want to do it. You’re mine to undress.” He takes my wrists and stretches my arms high over my head, leaning in to kiss me as the air rushes from my lungs. He smells so good, like fresh laundry and spicy cologne. My body reacts violently to his nearness, my pulse throbbing in my temple, my wrists, my neck.

“Hurry. You’re taking far too long here. Time is not our friend,” I complain. He chuckles. The sound is delightful. My lips turn up in a smile as I watch him; I’m not used to smiling this much. It feels strange. Alien. Unnatural and wonderful at the same time. Lust burns in Luke’s gaze, and I’m struck by the same unnerving thought I’m hit with every time he looks at me this way: how can a man so beautiful, so good, so right want me?

Because we’re both broken. We’re as healed as either of us could ever hope to be, a small voice whispers in my ear.

He tugs me off the counter and kneels before me, working me out of my jeans. He slows as he moves past the scar on my thigh, the bullet wound gifted to me by Chloe Mathers—a clean through and through. My life almost ended over the Christmas break. Not from the injury that caused my scar, but from the poison in my veins, the water in my lungs.

Luke leans forward and presses his lips against my thigh. My eyes close as my head tilts back a little. God, I want him so badly. Gripping hold of his hair a little tighter, I tug him gently higher up my leg.

“Oh really?” he says breathlessly. “I see someone knows what she wants today.” He leans into me and presses a kiss against my panties, giving me what I want, and a violent shiver ricochets around my body. He’s so perfect. I used to be so scared of him, so intimidated by how he made me feel. For the longest time I couldn’t even admit my feelings to myself, but now everything has changed. All bets are off when it comes to my dark-haired boy.

“I like bossy, Avery,” he says, grinning up at me. “She should come out to play more often.”

Avery.

After everything that happened last year, I had hoped to go back to the name I was given by my parents, but it didn’t stick. I’d moved on, become someone else. I’d become Avery. I’ve finally gotten used to my new name, and Luke seems to have as well. He hesitated in the past, but recently he doesn’t miss a beat. Iris Breslin died in that ghost-filled house back in Breakwater—the one her father left her when he died. I need her to rest in peace so I can live again. She deserves that, and so do I.

Luke makes a raw, sex-crazed sound as he stands and begins to unbutton his jeans, and I find myself welling up all of a sudden. My emotions seem to run riot whenever I’m around him. Tears prick at my eyes as he kicks his pants off and picks me up, sitting me back on the cold counter. His expression changes instantly when he sees I’m upset.

“Hey.” He cups my face in his hands. “Hey, what’s the matter?” His fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head back so I don’t have a choice but to look him in the eye. His erection presses against me, the warmth of his chest against mine, driving me mad.